


Something to Think About

by Asterekmess (Livinginfictions)



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Blow Jobs, Deepthroating, Established Relationship, Face-Fucking, Fluff and Smut, M/M, Morning Sex, Post-Coital Cuddling, Stiles has a talented mouth okay?, derek is appreciative
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-08
Updated: 2021-02-08
Packaged: 2021-03-13 16:15:25
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,033
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29281305
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Livinginfictions/pseuds/Asterekmess
Summary: Derek's morning starts in the best way possible.
Relationships: Derek Hale/Stiles Stilinski
Comments: 25
Kudos: 265





	Something to Think About

**Author's Note:**

> This is six pages of filth that _woke me up from a dead sleep_ at five in the morning and forced me to go write smut in my living room to avoid bugging my husband. I have no idea where it came from, but it's here and hopefully you'll enjoy it.

Derek woke on a groan, a silky whisper in his ear and a hand skimming down his already aching dick.

“This is your wake up call,” Stiles murmured, nosing at the cartilage of his ear and nipping at the lobe. “Good morning.”

“Sti— _uhn,_ ” Derek grunted at the sudden quick pump of Stiles’ hand at the base of his dick, and thrust up. As his lips parted in a silent moan, Stiles’ mouth reached his own and lipped at it, dragging the tip of his tongue over Derek’s bottom lip in a teasing line.

Then, suddenly, the heat of Stiles pressing up against his chest was gone, slinking downward instead. Groggy, and far more turned on than he could ever remember, Derek grabbed at his biceps to stop his descent. “One kiss.”

Even Stiles’ laughter went low during sex, and his chuckle rolled deep as he leaned back up. “One kiss,” he agreed.

Derek’s eyes were still closed, not yet ready to blink at whatever time of day or night Stiles had chosen to wake him up, so Stiles’ kiss was a complete surprise. One moment, he was breathing a little heavy and the next, Stiles had stolen all the air in him with a kiss that seemed to pin Derek down with its meaning and depth. His tongue dove deep into Derek’s mouth, curling around his own and dragging up the roof, leaving shuddering tingling behind.

It was the one chance Derek was going to have to do anything back, he knew, so he took it, locking Stiles in with a hand on the back of his neck and tipping his head to the side to align them that much more perfectly. Stiles always fussed about Derek’s kiss rules, namely that in Derek’s opinion if they don’t get more than an inch apart, it’s all technically the same single kiss.

He took advantage of that rule now, backing away just far enough to pull Stiles’ bottom lip into his mouth and bite, before starting his own exploration of Stiles’ mouth. In a lucky coincidence, he managed to catch Stiles’ tongue as it attempted a rebuttal, and gently sucking on it had Stiles groaning above him.

Stiles ended the kiss with a yank that finally forced Derek to look at him, if only to scowl at the disruption, and moaned, eyes glittering with arousal and humor. “You’re _distracting_ me. Stop it,” he scolded.

Leaning in quickly, he hooked his teeth on Derek’s jaw, just past his chin, and bit softly, which was in no way fair. Derek gasped and bared his neck, keening as Stiles’ teeth followed the movement of his head and only let go once Derek had turned his face as far up and to the side as he could manage.

“ _Fucker_ ,” Derek growled roughly, but he didn’t stop Stiles from trying to slide down again.

He was shirtless, but had clearly been up long enough to put jeans on. How long had he been planning this?

There was another low laugh that made Derek’s stomach swoop, and then his boxers were tugged almost violently down his hipbones, prompting him to reach one hand down and remove them properly before Stiles got any ideas about trying this while they were still on.

Because, Derek wasn’t _entirely_ surprised by this morning’s wake up. After all, he’d been the one to suggest it.

Derek liked mornings. He liked watching the sunrise and listening to the world wake up on its own terms, and moving at as slow a pace as he wanted for the few hours before any of that happened. He also liked morning sex. A lot. A frankly outrageous amount.

Any orgasms Derek had before nine am were inevitably the best possible for the day. Or at least, they had been, before he and Stiles started this _thing_ that was almost scarily easy to settle into but impossible to name properly without his heart beating double-time. Once Stiles joined the equation, the orgasms after nine jumped to match his previous records. Over the months, they’d gradually succeeded in beating them entirely.

The only problem was, Stiles _hated_ mornings. He was inconsolably grumpy if someone woke him up before the sun was high enough to allow him to read without a light on in the bedroom. Derek had timed it down to that exact measurement and to avoid royally pissing Stiles off, he let his lover be until that time. But that meant their mornings never quite matched up with Derek’s favorite time to have sex.

Which is where Derek’s suggestion came in. It was a response to Stiles’ lewd jokes, something he barely thought about until Stiles startled and gave him a surprisingly focused, “Seriously?”

Stiles hated waking up early, but he constantly complained about how hard Derek was in the morning. Derek liked to cuddle, and holding off on dealing with his near daily intense morning wood was worth it for a few hours of just breathing in Stiles’ space. It also usually came with a sleepy Stiles grinding back on him, while refusing to actually wake up and do something about it. Somehow, Stiles managed to make himself sound like the victim here.

So, when Stiles was complaining again about how unfair it was that Derek’s ‘horniest time’ was while Stiles was conked out, it’d seemed only natural to say, “It’s not my fault you’re missing out on our best sex.”

Stiles had been stunned, then intrigued. “You actually think our sex could get better? Where have you been? I’m pretty sure we’ve broken records or something.”

He wasn’t lying, and the apparent awe he had of their sex life would’ve made Derek blush if he weren’t trying so hard to keep himself nonchalant.

“Wake meup with a blow job someday, and maybe you’ll find out.”

“Seriously?”

Derek had been serious, but not expecting anything. It was just something to think about. Now, he was going to eat his words.

He was used to waking up hot, bothered, and sensitive as all hell, and finally having Stiles awake to use all of that against him with some real intent was almost overwhelming. Simple, rough, finger pads dragging down his bare thighs were enough to make goosebumps rise all over his arms and legs. A soft lick to the head of Derek’s dick, which was peeking out of his foreskin and begging for attention had him twitching hard.

“Good?” Stiles breathed, the first hint he’d given so far at being remotely nervous about Derek’s enjoyment.

This was something new to both of them, which didn’t always mean it was something they would want to continue.

“Good,” Derek confirmed.

Stiles didn’t spend his usual amount of time on foreplay, skipping past the achingly light trailing of his fingers over Derek’s dick and the teasing pull of sucking Derek in only a little and leaving him desperate for more. With a few long licks up the sides of Derek’s dick and slow mouthing from the base to the tip, he sank his mouth down on Derek.

Fingers clenched in the sheets as Derek tried to calm his already ragged breathing. They’d barely done anything, but a hot, warm, mouth was leagues better than his lubed up hand.

Speaking of fingers and hands, Stiles kept both far away from Derek’s dick, relying on the angle of his head and the control of his mouth to keep Derek’s dick from slipping out or twitching out of the perfect position he had it in. Derek didn’t know _why_ that was hot, but it was, and so were Stiles’ reaching hands that grabbed at his own and tugged them away from the sheets to rest on the back of his head.

Derek was being absolutely spoiled. He knew it, and if he had any higher brain functions currently working, he would’ve started planning out how to repay Stiles, but as it was he just slid his fingers over Stiles’ scalp and relished in one of his favorite things.

It was _heady_ to control how far and how fast Stiles took him in. The trust implied was an unspoken part of it, but Derek couldn’t even label the flaring heat in his abdomen at getting to run his fingers over and through and around Stiles’ messy hair and at the same time push him further down onto his dick with no complaints from Stiles.

He didn’t go completely unchecked. Stiles kept his fingers splayed on Derek’s hips, fingers twitching in possible preparation for a tap. Their system was simple, while Stiles’ mouth was occupied, he communicated with taps. One tap, warning, slow down. Two taps, stop. Three taps, get the fuck off.

The last one was more implied, since they’d never gotten further than a gentle double-tap when Stiles needed a break.

Easing into it, Derek mindlessly massaged Stiles’ head and the top of the back of his neck, whatever he could reach. Rubbing a firm circle over a tense muscle had the shocking and gratifying effect of causing Stiles to slip down further as his neck relaxed, holding him up a little less and pushing Derek’s cock to the back of his mouth.

“ _Fuck_ ,” Derek managed to pant.

Looking down was either a mistake, or the best idea Derek had ever had. Stiles was doing all of the work, taking Derek’s shallow thrusts up into his mouth with a grace he didn’t often show outside of bed. But for all the effort he had to be putting in, he looked positively blissed.

His eyes were shut, not scrunched or squeezed, just softly closed with his eyelashes resting on his blush red cheeks. His jaw wasn’t being forced open by Derek’s cock, it was hanging low and relaxed, filled to its limit but not beyond. Spit glistened on Derek’s dick as it slid in and out of Stiles’ mouth, and the sight as a whole was too much to handle.

Derek threw his head back and let out another, “ _Fuck_ ,” this time cracked and broken, and followed by a desperate, “ _Stiles._ ”

He pulled instinctively, moving Stiles head even further down until he could feel it hit the top of Stiles’ throat.

One tap.

Derek let up immediately, gasping and running his hand over Stiles’ hair both to soothe himself, and the man practically swallowing his cock.

Stiles’ warning didn’t seem to be him defining a line, just requesting a chance to adjust. Given back control, he slowed and shifted minutely, before ever so slowly sinking back down to that level again.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck. How—You—you fucking—” Derek hissed.

Derek was holding himself down to keep from thrusting with a level of self-control he hadn’t realized he had, gulping at the pressure of his dick pushing _against_ something. It was so good, too good, not good enough.

Then, Stiles’ fingers gripped at his hips and tugged, and Derek nearly fell apart. He thrust up, gently, slowly, then again a little faster. Fucking into Stiles’ mouth so deep he couldn’t make any sounds that would express the sensation.

Again, there was no teasing this time. Stiles was apparently on a mission, and the pleasure only amped higher, never allowed to sink low again. Derek waited until the last possible second to shudder out a groan and grind to a halt with his cock resting fully on Stiles’ licking, twisting tongue. He was so close to coming that he had to grit his teeth to hold himself back from the edge. One hand had fisted in Stiles’ short hair, and he released it quickly. If Stiles wanted to stop now because Derek yanked his hair, Derek would _actually_ die.

Stiles was an absolutely sneaky, conniving little sex demon, whom Derek had scolded more than once for not understanding the concept of pausing when Derek was going to come. He never wanted to stop. He always pushed again, forcing Derek to fuck him still and come anyway or pin him down to let him _breathe_ for a second.

Today was no exception. But Stiles didn’t just push. With a muffled groan that set Derek’s nerve endings on fire in the best way, he sank _all the way_ down. His nose pressed against Derek’s pelvis and Derek nearly shut down as his cock was led into Stiles throat.

Deepthroating was not a thing Stiles had mentioned when they started having sex. Deepthroating had never been on the table, and now Stiles was _swallowing_ around Derek’s dick, and—mother of _fuck_ , his tongue was still moving, still insistently swiping at the base with what little range of motion it had, and Derek _snapped_.

His entire body writhed on the bed under the waves of impossibly good. So good. So fucking good.

His hands clasped behind Stiles neck and pulled again, desperately trying to pull him closer and deeper, but there was nowhere else to go because Derek’s dick was fucking in Stiles throat in frantic grinds that were only spurred on by Stiles iron grip on his hips, keeping him in place and not remotely tapping. No tapping, just— _fucking fuck_.

“C—come—ing,” he choked out.

As the rush of static that’d been pooling in his spine exploded outward and shot up to turn his brain into a shock-white emptiness, Derek’s back bowed painfully, until his shoulders were barely touching the mattress.

He was rendered mute, mouth open in a silent shout that he couldn’t voice through the blindingly intense sensation of feeling his cock pulse in counterpoint to Stiles’ attempted swallowing as he quite literally came down Stiles’ throat. He’d barely gotten over the very top of the crescendo of his orgasm when his back dropped heavily down to the bed, bouncing him just slightly and shocking him back into sound.

A loud, broken, bone-deep moan escaped, taking with it all the sweet, hot tension that’d been building in Derek’s body since he’d woken up and replacing it with a wholly different, honey warm flood of pleasure.

Stiles’ fingers scrabbled at his hips suddenly, digging in sharply as he pulled off only a little, enough to let him heave out a whimper of pleasure before he rocked down to pull Derek’s still twitching dick back into its previous spot.

Derek couldn’t remotely breathe, sucking in air like he’d been drowning, and every gasp insisted on doubling as a weak groan. His limbs were trembling, his fingers were cramped from their grip on Stiles’ hair again. His body felt like it was burning, it was so hot.

Finally, _finally_ Stiles lifted, letting Derek’s cock slide down his tongue slowly, before releasing it entirely to start gasping himself and push his forehead into the side of Derek’s thigh for support. His hips shifted, popping in a way that sounded painful, and he collapsed onto the bottom of the bed in a heap.

Neither of them spoke. Derek tried about four times before giving up. There weren’t words, and even if there were he couldn’t get enough air to get them out anyway. He considered it an achievement that he’d managed to unclench his fingers enough to make minuscule petting motions over Stiles’ sweat soaked locks.

Eventually, Derek felt Stiles lift his head in tiny increments, and looked down to meet his eyes, to see the bruised, swollen, spit streaked evidence of how he’d absolutely destroyed Derek with nothing but his fucking _mouth_.

“Fuck,” Stiles said.

Derek’s mind really did shut down then, jaw dropping in silent awe.

Stiles’ voice was _broken_. Hoarse and gravel rough, and so low Derek spasmed at the sound. Anyone who heard him would have to have no doubt where the new voice had come from. It was worse than a hickey.

He could only watch as Stiles recovered enough to reach out for a washcloth Derek hadn’t even known was there and wipe his mouth off. He put his hand on his own jaw for a second, rubbing slowly and wincing, before cracking a tiny smile that clearly wanted to be bigger but couldn’t. Then, because apparently everything he’d already done wasn’t earth-shattering enough, he stood up and pulled off his jeans, all so he could peel off newly sticky boxers and wipe the come off himself. When he’d finished, he sank shakily back onto the bed.

It would be unfair to force Stiles to be the only one who had to move around after that, so Derek shoved one clumsy hand underneath himself and sat up, sliding away from Stiles slightly as he shifted. Every movement only emphasized how completely jelly-like his body was, wobbly and unstable and weak. He stole the cloth from Stiles’ limp fingers and dropped it over the side of the bed to deal with later.

Then, he took Stiles’ hands and pulled until Stiles began to knee-walk forward enough to collapse back down onto Derek’s side and chest with a wrung out sigh.

“I—uh,” Derek rasped. His own mouth had turned to cotton, making it hard to swallow. His brows furrowed as he tried again to come up with some kind of response.

Stiles did it for him, by laughing. It was a bastardization of a laugh, with Stiles’ voice so wrecked, but it was light and happy.

Breaking into a smile, Derek laughed too, and the words came a little easier. “Fuck, Stiles.” Only a little. “Uh, thank you?”

It only made Stiles laugh harder, snickering into Derek’s sticky skin and tickling him, winding them both up into more sex-glazed giggles.

“You’re welcome.” Stiles’ eyes widened at the unfamiliar sound of his own voice, and he slapped a hand over it, scrunching his eyes shut as he burst into muffled guffaws.

While they waited for their skin to cool and their minds to settle, Derek stroked Stiles’ hair again. He never got tired of it, or the way it made Stiles melt against him. With his last come-drunk moment of unguarded clarity, he mused, “I feel like I should propose or something after that.”

Stiles snorted sleepily into his shoulder. “If you do, I won’t say yes until you ask me again with clothes on, and not until _after_ nine am.”

It was something to think about.

**Author's Note:**

> That...that was some sex, right there. I wrote the entirety of Sex Therapy about them having constant sex, and it _still_ didn't feel as dirty as this. What even?  
> And of course, I can't even write six-page blowjobs without including something stupidly fluffy like a hinted proposal. Happy, mushy, good endings only.
> 
> Anyway, if you enjoyed this, consider checking my other stuff out, or come hang out on my [tumblr](https://asterekmess.tumblr.com/) where I obsess about these idiots 24/7.
> 
> Big thanks to my Beta [M](https://stilesissokka.tumblr.com/) for reading through this for me and making sure it wasn't entirely incoherent. Morning me cannot be trusted, and they help a lot.


End file.
